Balancer
by As-Long-As-I'm-Around
Summary: A seemingly normal human girl is the key to balancing the worlds of good and evil. When she is found out, it becomes a race between the two worlds to get her. Clary may be special but she's also been raised a girl-can she crush her forbidden feelings for her guardian, or will it be the cause of not just her downfall, but also the world as we know it?
1. Chapter 1

**I've had this idea in my head for years. It's not something that I ever saw myself writing about any of my favourite characters but here we go.**

**Please tell me what you think? **

o.

o.

Clary always knew she was special.

Sometimes there were certain things you felt, and you knew them to be so.

She could feel it in her bones.

She could feel the taste of it, burning on her tongue.

She could feel it in her eyes as she looked through, what she felt, a protective blanket. She felt as if, for lack of a better word, blocks were in her mind that stopped her from seeing the truth.

She felt that she was living a lie, and a horrible one at that.

But because she knew this information, held it as close to her heart as she possibly could, it somehow made it better.

Not worthwhile, but worth it.

For it meant that this would all be over soon.

That for whatever reason it was happening to her-that it would be explained, and all the wrong doings would be righted.

Although she knew the emotional damage she had suffered for years, would take as long as that to not be fixed, but to be addressed and to heal.

You can't fix broken things and at this point, Clary didn't believe that she was broken.

She just believed that she was...

Special.


	2. Chapter 2

o.

o.

"Clarissa Adele! I've called you twice now!" The voice floated upstairs, carried by an angry screeched that seemed to slam into the girl in question. Clary let out a soft groan, rolling her eyes before dropping her pencil on the desk a little more harshly then necessary.

"I didn't hear you. Would it bother you to come up here?" But of course she only said it loud enough for herself to hear, instead forcing herself to stand up and to head to the door.

The woman she was forced to call her mother was waiting at the door, hands on curvy hips, frowning down at her through big lashes and slitted brown eyes.

"I didn't hear you," Clary lost the strength of her fury, feeling the familiar tremble go through her at the sight of this woman.

This woman who claimed to be her mother but was anything but that.

Clary couldn't be related to her, she was everything she was not.

Where Grace was slender and tall, with straight brown hair that could have been dull if it was anyone but Grace, Clary barely reached a small 5,0 and although Clary was not podgy she wouldn't be described as slender, nor curvy. She also had hair that matched her hidden personality; it was a beautiful, fierce red colour, and curled all the way past average breasts, with vivid green eyes.

And the lack of traits didn't end there.

They were not only different in looks but also different in their personalities.

Grace was cold and snobby; she thought of herself in the highest with an air of confidence only Grace could get away with.

Clary was warm and loving, even though they had tried to beat it out of her with violence and hatred. They had succeeded in robbing her of her confidence. It was as if Grace had sucked it all up.

Clary might have thought that she took after her father, but he was too cruel of a man, and he lacked any of her features.

Clary was forced to think she was adopted, even though they said otherwise.

It was another thing she knew, another thing she held on to.

It gave her peace; thinking that she was not related to these monsters.

It also connected to her theory of being special.

She believed her mother-possibly her father, had known it.

She believed that they had done this to hide her, and had truly believed that she would be safe here.

She didn't know if that's something they had wanted to believe, or if if's something they had thought would be the case.

It wasn't that she wasn't safe.

But she wasn't okay here, either.

There was always that doubt in her mind that she was pretending to herself about this, that it was a childlike thing to do to escape a cruel reality.

But it seemed impossible to her, that if what she thought to be true was felt so strong within her, then that must be the case.

Grace was clucking at her now in disapproval.

"Clarissa, it's like you enjoy being punished." That's another thing Clary hated, being called Clarissa, especially in the way it came out of Grace's mouth.

_'Yes, I enjoy being beaten to a bloody pulp. A riveting and enjoyable time for me.'_

"It was an honest mistake. I didn't hear you."

Grace rolled her eyes, apparently now bored with how this conversation was going.

"Go and clean the house. We have guests tonight, and I need this place spotless. And if it's not-then it will be you who is not spotless. Do I make myself understood, little girl?"

Clary smiled a sweet smile.

Too sweet.

It made her stomach sick.

"I understand perfectly."

She did.

But she didn't.

o.

o.

"The girl should be thanking us. When she is seen tonight, she will be ready." Grace said around a puff of smoke.

Her husband, Charles, was leaning back in his seat, his feet propped on the desk in a relaxed position.

It was the first time they had felt relaxed since the beginning of this.

Grace was even beginning to feel relief, and excitement of being free.

She was only a little girl when her older sister had began to tell her about the paranormal world, and the favours demons could do for you in the trade of your soul.

She remembered her sister snorting and saying almost bitterly, that in order for that to work Grace had to have a soul.

It was quite a sibling remark to make, but unfortunately planted an aggressive root in Grace.

It was only a year later, when her sister was going through the hormones of becoming a teenager, and taking it out on Grace that Grace decided to do something about it.

She had made sure to do her research before summoning what was known as a Greater Demon. He had cackled when she told him her request, and Grace could still remember how that had made her angry and how she had snapped back.

Her mother was always telling her that her lack of thinking and her smart mouth would get her into trouble.

The demon had looked at her thoughtfully, and although they couldn't smirk, that's the impression she had gotten.

That he had been smirking at her.

He would turn her sister into a toad, but not in trade for her soul. No, it would be years to come that he would need her.

She had thought she'd gotten away easy. She'd got to keep herself, and she had tortured the toad that was her sister before she'd put it out of her misery.

And she lived a free life until the Greater Demon came back and chained her to his affairs.

Invisible though the chains were, they were as real and heavy as actual ones would be.

It had been easy to befriend the woman she had had to. People were too trustworthy, especially those in desperate need of companionship.

Those in desperate need of help.

Grace was brought out of her reminiscing by a soft, sharp knock at the door. Charles slowly put his feet down, straightening up to look proper. Grace slipped down from the desk she'd been lounging on, standing by her husband's side like any good wife.

Although, good and Grace did not go together.

In a way she had sold her soul when summoning the Greater Demon.

If she'd had one to begin with.

The door opened hesitantly, and a small face framed by large curls peered through.

"It's 7 pm, I just wanted to inform you that your guests would be arriving shortly." Clarissa said respectfully.

Grace beckoned her in with the curling of her finger, and the girl stepped through, strides unsure.

She was wearing a green ball gown, that went nicely against her pale and flawless skin. Her green specs seemed brighter, her hair redder. She spun around at Grace's motion to do so, stopping softly when she met her face to face.

Grace's smile was like a cat that just caught it's bird.

"Excellent."


	3. Chapter 3

o.

o.

Clary had been to many evenings like the one at hand.

She had even been of some attention, both from females and males.

But never before this night had she felt as if eyes were burning into her back, watching every move she made.

Though when she looked up, she found that no one was paying her attention of any sort.

So while Clary swept around the room, offering food and drinks, engaging in some conversations like a typical servant girl, she kept watch out of the corner of her eye.

Yet she couldn't find the source responsible for the piercing watchfulness she felt.

Often Clary's speculative glances would lock fall upon Grace, and she would find herself in a lock so strong that she couldn't pull her eyes away.

Grace seemed to blend in tonight, instead of her usual standing out.

It wasn't an accident though, it seemed on purpose as she stood at the corners, or by the tables as she seemed to do the same thing Clary was doing; watching.

Prickles like electric shocks hummed down her spine, causing her to jolt in some movements, and causing a few wayward eyebrows.

It wasn't your typical fear running down your spine, but a feel so strong that it captured her, and refused to release her.

She knew it was her intuition, through blocks, warning her.

And if it could speak, then it would surely be chanting.

_Run run run, as fast as you can._

_Run. _

_Flee, hide._

_Get out of here._

_Now._

She felt the words flash through her, each word stroked with a vidid forcefulness that ached to cause some movement in her, to hurry her into action.

Yet she stood as still as a statue.

In some ways she felt like one, that she was the subject being moulded, and soon she would not be able to break free.

Time seemed to pause as Clary's gaze was pulled to Grace's, and she gave a start as she noticed Charles beside her, and then another man. He turned around slowly, as if her eyes had shot out an imaginary rope, and it had found him, and was pulling him to her.

Clary never got the chance to get a look at him, although she felt as if it were important that she did so.

There were loud crashing noises, and the sprinkling of large amount of glass as the windows caved in.

Or, were pushed in.

Screams rose up in the night while flashes of bodies landed amid in the chaos. Clary was barely aware that she was moving backwards, her feet tripping over the other as she landed in a pile of broken wood and glass. The pain was muted by her absolute fear and wonder at what was happening. It was all too fast for her to process and understand as she watched through widened eyes.

The bodies in black seemed to show no injuries, although the fall from the roof would surely have broken limbs or caused some damage, surely.

Should have.

But didn't.

Each seemed to move with precise accuracy, as if this had been practised many times over. They were fast, and lethal, and Clary had to press at her throat to stop the screams that threatened to tear out of her.

What she didn't except was the seemingly normal women and men, yes, even women, to defend themselves.

To fight back with just as much strength and grace.

To Clary, it was almost like a dance.

There had a certain beauty to each move, either by the body or the swords that had somehow appeared as if by thin air.

"The girl!" Someone was screeching, and Clary's head was drawn to the voice, as if she knew that they were somehow talking about her and-

And someone was by her side.

Clary's eyes shot to his, and instead of being scared, was surprised to find that as soon as golden iris's held her own green ones, she felt-

She felt something she'd never felt before.

Safe.

She stopped moving, yet his hand that had been pressed to her shoulder timidly to halt her, stayed there. Another arm had snaked around her waist, holding her still and against him. His body radiated a circle of warmth that seemed to wrap around her, and she found her hand clutching the collar of his shirt in a white grip.

His eyes were guarded and curious, as if expecting her to continue her thrashing or to put up a fight.

She forced herself to relax, loosening her hold but not letting go.

And as her body slumped as the adrenaline seemed to wear off, the boy holding her seemed to deflate, as well.

Boy.

Clary's eyes swept across his face, taking in his high cheekbones and jawline that showed off his youth. Her eyebrows became pinched as she frowned thoughtfully at him, wondering why someone so young was involved in this.

Whatever this was.

But then, she was young too.

And involved.

To each their own.

"You don't have to be afraid," he murmured now, pressing his lips to her ear so she could hear over the noise. Clary stilled as his breath travelled down to her neck, tickling it and sending shivers of delight down her spine.

She closed her eyes, trying to compose herself.

This was it.

This is what she had been waiting for, had she not?

Yet knowing and feeling some sense of preparation hadn't been enough.

She opened her eyes, licking dry lips as she pulled back to meet the boy's eyes again.

She found herself picturing a green meadow, with the sun shining brilliantly over it, warming everything that it touched.

His eyes were very much like that sun in her mind.

"I'm not afraid," She said back, and his eyebrows shot up at this reply, something he clearly had not been expecting.

And then, she smiled.

"I've been waiting for this."


End file.
